The Scales of a Spartan
by DwemerSteelBlade
Summary: When fireteam WHISP get transported to the Skyrim universe, their leader will find himself in between civil wars, mythical bestial brawls, and cold-blooded cults! SPARTAN-A206, codenamed Dorado, will have to learn to become accustomed to this new and fantastical world that the Nords call home.
1. Chapter I

**SPARTAN-A206**

 **Codename: Dorado**

 **Leader of Fireteam WHISP**

Darkness on either side, reverberating my heavy breathing. I heard muffled voices, as if rooms apart, through my helmet. Maybe my helmet is deactivated?

I try reaching for the manual power-on but I find that my hands are binded by some incredibly strong material. I could only assume they had made some sort of metal alloy strong enough to resist SPARTAN strength.

I heard a muffled "He's awake" from somebody whose voice I couldn't recognize. I was suddenly aware of something hitting my head, and then my HUD came back on. A string of lights that allowed me to see through my faceplate lit up, giving me vision again.

I was met by my other four squadmates. SPARTAN-D006, our sniper and codenamed Bolt, SPARTAN-B401, a demo expert that went by the name Blast, and then our SPARTAN-D071, a tech-related addition that had joined just a month ago and had taken the name Circuit. I glanced back to the SPARTAN-IV that we had been commanded to take with us. So far, our team had not taken a liking to her, as we were all weathered SPARTAN-III veterans who earned our armor. She was just some ONI brat who had simply been given the highly-advanced MJOLNIR.

"Thank god you're awake," I heard Circuit's voice over my private COMMs. "I second that," I agreed flatly, looking around.

Surprisingly, my binds hadn't been a super-strong alloy. Or metal at all. They were leather binds treated with some sort of chemical that made them stone, and also the fact that my arms were put in a position where it was extremely hard to actually put pressure on them. "Don't try to break them – you'll just piss off the guard," Bolt nodded his head towards my left.

I looked that way and was astonished to see a man of muscular physique wearing Roman-era-resembling armor. There was a leather chest piece and skirt, along with a red undershirt and hide helmet. Now that I had taken a look at my surroundings, I saw that this wasn't the mega-metropolis we had been operating in seemingly a few moments prior. We were on a medieval-looking, rough stone path bordered on one side by a thick veil of foliage, primarily spruce and conifer trees. On the other, a sheer rock face rose up into the sky. The sun was rising just above the trees, giving off a pale, grey morning light. It gave us all a ghostly quality, as if we weren't really there. Especially Blast, since his armor had the paint chipped off so frequently that he had decided to leave it at its original, shiny chrome coat, but with the occasional scuff and dirt here and there. His black visor reflected my own helmet.

I gazed at the front and back, seeing that we were in a line of other carts carrying people in binds. Some looked normal, while others looked… odd.

I glanced at the top right of my HUD, seeing that I still had all my weapons – battle rifle, SOCOM magnum, plasma blade and all.

"Why did they leave us our weapons?..." I murmured to myself more than anyone. "They all seem fairly… rustic, would be the right word, I suppose, and probably wouldn't recognize a gun as a weapon," reasoned the SPARTAN-IV, who had decided to use her name of Lily. "Fair enough," I heard Blast grunt grudgingly over the COMMs. "We are a team," I responded sternly, "We will work together until we get out of this runt."

I stared intently at Blast, since he had a track record of defying a few orders. But at least I could still _rely_ on him to get _some_ orders done. Blast stared back into my faceplate, my helmet being mirrored in his 'face', challengingly. After what felt like several moments, he nodded begrudgingly, flexing his hand.

"Good," I responded flatly, "Now to get to _why_ we were captured."

I turned on my external speakers, allowing the guard to hear me. "Why are we here?" I grunted out the question in a voice that told the man I wasn't messing around. The guard jumped slightly, as if not expecting to speak. He slowly turned to me. "Thalmor's orders," he responded simply. The man didn't seem very threatening, and seemed to be in his mid-twenties. If this person had been in the UNSC, he'd still be considered cannon-fodder.

"And who is this… Thalmor?" I inquired, hoping that this obviously unexperienced soldier would leak info. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but quickly shut it. "That's on a need-to-know basis," he said smugly, turning back to the path. "Damn it…" I heard Circuit curse, her voice carrying over the COMMs.

A medieval castle wannabe came into view as we took a sharp turn in the path, the carts ahead of us going right into a huge archway entrance. "This is the end!" I heard someone in the cart behind us wail in dismay. I highly doubted that they would have any technology that could actually manage to go through our shields, the thick armor plated, and then our reinforced under suits. Highly.

We finally rolled down to a sort of dirt parking lot, where all the carts stopped in a line, with all the passengers in binds jumping off. Some were looking defiant and had to be pushed off, while others trudged out of it as if their feet weighed a ton.

There were multiple people wearing the same armor, making me guess that this was an organized military group. Para-military groups don't usually have standardized uniforms, and even if they do, they're all customized to a degree. These were all plain, leather outfits. "Damn Empire. They love their damn lists," I heard a man spat in the demounted line to my left.

I glanced over, seeing four men in uniform blue and leather outfits and one that was in what seemed to be medieval rags, furthering reinforcing my theory that we had traveled back in the past. "We're all gonna die!" the man in rags wailed desperately. "Die with some honor, _thief_ ," hissed a man behind the person in rags. "All right!" a female voice called out, "Line up at the chopping block!"

"You first!" she pointed an arm straight at me. She had fully steel armor with a fully metal helm that closely resembled the helmets of the ancient Greek Spartans. I quickly formulated a plan to get out. I nodded and acted as if I was dreading my death, which if I actually _were_ to die, I wouldn't be afraid. I obeyed and got on my knees, thankful that my weapons had been left on my back.

I felt the woman's boot on my back, pushing me onto the block. I followed the example, my muscles already tense beneath the armor as to what came next. "On my mark, I want you to take out the ones in red and leather and steel armor, no civilians or the ones in blue, got it?" I whispered into the group private COMM. On my HUD, I saw four green lights. I activated my helmet's rear camera, and saw that a man in a black hood was about to chop off my head. I had to be patient, though, or else the plan wouldn't work. The man swung, but I had quickly flipped onto my back and directed the slash at my bindings, effectively cutting my free. The man was stunned for a second that I had been so bold, and I took this second to knee the axe handle into his face. "Mark!" I exclaimed through my external speakers. Immediately, my squadmates sprang into action.

Blast used his binded hands to strangle two people, while Circuit and Bolt both worked as a pair to get through multiple guards. The ones in blue chasses caught on, and roared a defiant war cry, as they, too, imitated my squadmates' fighting styles.

I reached onto my back, grabbing my battle rifle. I quickly aimed it at some archers that were using bows on the stone walls, firing three bursts and effectively taking down three of them. "Get over here!" I shouted at my squadmates. Blast ran up to me, holding out his hands. I nodded and activated my prototype plasma blade, slashing through the bindings and making a clean incision. Blast thanked me in his signature gravelly and bass voice.

He grabbed the minigun he carried on his back and opened fire, unleashing a torrent of bullets on the poor groups of leather-armored men.

I glanced back at Bolt and Circuit, seeing them fighting individually with freed hands. I guessed that either they had grabbed a weapon from one of the dead men and cut themselves loose, or one of our 'allies' did it for them.

I heard a roar of anger from behind me, turning to see a heavily-armored man wearing similar armor to the leather-armored guards, running at me with a steel battle axe. He had managed to gain significant ground on me, leaving me with too little time to raise my gun and be able to fire at his weak points. With no other choice, I quickly snap the rifle onto my back, and cross my arms a split second before the man charged at me.

I had managed to lower myself a bit so that my armor clashed against the bit of the grip underneath the head of the battle axe, so I wouldn't have my shields damaged. I had to admit – this guy was strong. "And here we have a battle of two alpha males, struggling to assert dominance," I heard Bolt over the COMMs dramatically, using his British accent. "Oh, shut up," I snapped, letting the man pull backwards and swing at me. I ducked, the axe flying an inch over my head, then jumped up, kicking the axe forward. This threw the man off balance, giving me time to grab my SOCOM and fire multiple rounds into the enemy's throat, effectively killing him.

After a second, I had realized that the fight had stopped. There were no more sounds of gun fire, or cries of pain and gasps of death. Only heavy panting and grunting. I glanced backwards, seeing that the men in blue armor, along with my squadmates and the SPARTAN-IV, had cornered the remaining enemy forces. There were only ten to fifteen left, while there were twenty to thirty of the blue men.

I walked over, stomping on the ground with my heavy MJOLNIR to make myself look even more imposing, with my sleek armor coated in blood and dirt. The leather-armored men cowered as I approached, and I even saw one or two of our 'allies' flinch.

"If we let you go," I growled, "Will you leave your posts and continue you your lives as civilians?"

They all seemed very, very eager. A chorus of agreement came from the surrounded opponents. "Then let them go," I looked at the blue men. "Are you sure, be-" started a blonde. "I _said_ let them go," I responded curtly, "there would be no point in killing them now. They are defeated. We only fight to win – not to murder."

Some of them looked hesitant, but lowered their weapons reluctantly, allowing the defeated group to walk freely. "Thank you…" one of them said to me, "I was forced into service." I nodded at him, silently thanking the heavens that I had decided to spare this group.

A brown-haired blue-armored man came up to me, holding his weapon down. "We will sing you and your compatriots' praises in the halls of Sovnguarde!" he exclaimed, an uproar of agreement coming from the armed blue-chassed men. "Come fight with the Stormcloaks. You are somebody who is not afraid to get their hands dirty, and we need men like you," grinned the man. I glanced at my squadmates, my gaze lingering on the SPARTAN-IV. "We will see in due time. My squad and I need to access the UNSC. Do you know of any outposts?" I asked, hoping that there was any sort of modern technology here. "UNSC? I don't know anything about whoever that is, but the only authority here is Ulfric Stormcloak, and that traitorous Emperor!" the man hissed the last part. Piecing together what he said, I assumed that this was some guerilla rebellion.

"And what has the Emperor done to you?" I asked carefully. The man looked at me as if I was a Sangheili singing a pop song. "They have robbed us of our lands, taken our jobs, and broken millennia-old traditions!" the man growled bitterly. Unlike the UNSC, this 'Emperor' truly seemed like a tyrant. The Insurrectionists were simply extremists.

"Do you have any place to stay?" the man asked. Circuit walked up next to me. Even though Circuit was short by SPARTAN-III standard, she still stood in front of the man with a good three inches up her sleeve. "No – do you have any idea where we could stay and settle down for a bit?" she asked without my consent. "Well… there is the Grandroot Inn not far from here, and they have rooms big enough for eight people…" he murmured thoughtfully. "Great," I could practically image Circuit smiling beneath her helmet, "How far is it?"

"About three kilometers south," responded the man. We were tired, but we would have to make the trek, "Great…"

Suddenly, a nearly inconceivable sound reached my ears. It was so faint that I almost thought that I had imagined it. But I couldn't have, since I saw Circuit and Blast visibly perk up at the same instant. "What?" asked Bolt, oblivious to the sound. I glanced up at the mountains bordering the town. It had sounded like some sort of roar.

I looked at one mountaintop, barely distinguishing a shape against the snowy peak. It was massive, flying towards us. It was… a dragon?

 **AN: So, with this story, I will actually be serious with the plot. And this chapter is proof, since I am fully aware that I don't have the best track record with Halo/Skyrim crossovers… ouch.**


	2. Chapter II

**SPARTAN-A206**

 **CODENAME: DORADO**

 **LEADER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

The creature had thick, bony plates covering its entire body in a shade of khaki. Its eyes blazed red, further reinforcing its evil presence and dark energy.

"A dragon!? It can't be!" the man next to me shouted. "Who cares? We will slay it like everything we have encountered before!" exclaimed one of the now named Stormcloaks, raising his greatsword in defiance. I glanced at their weapons. They were overall in cruddy shape from the battle prior, and if the weapon couldn't handle leather well, how would it react to bony armor plating?

"We cannot fight it! We need to escape!" I shouted, reloading my battle rifle. "We are no wimps! We will kill this dragon or die trying!" hollered a Stormcloak. I wheeled on him, grabbing him by the collar of his uniform and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. "There is a difference between running away and retreating. We are retreating because we do not stand a chance now – we will take this threat down later on," I growled. I got the desired reaction out of the Stormcloak – a mixture of fear and understanding. The man reluctantly nodded, and I dropped him onto the blood-stained layer of snow on the ground.

The Stormcloak scrambled for his weapon and ran for a large stone structure. I was slightly alarmed I hadn't noticed it before. I mentally kicked myself for this, but the roar of the beast snapped me back into reality. "Go! Now!" I yelled, " _All_ of you!"

My squadmates got the message, and started running alongside the Stormcloaks. The SPARTAN-IV didn't, though. "Are you deaf? Fall back!" I shouted, aiming my battle rifle and hoping that the bullets in the magazine would be able to penetrate the bony hide. "What are you doing!" Lily called back at me. "Buying time! Don't worry – I'll live!" I wasn't exactly sure of this, but I had a fair bit of confidence that I would get out of this with just a few scratches and cuts.

Lily still stood in the blood-soaked snow, staring at me, her broad, yellow faceplate reflecting my gaze. "I said _go_!" I snarled at her, not taking my eyes off the beast, which was getting much closer. She finally glanced at the stone stronghold, back at me, then sprinted off, catching up with the Stormcloaks and the rest of WHISP.

"Alright, beasty!" I called out at the dragon, not expecting a response, "You want to dance? Let's dance!"

The beast split open its maw and let out a deafening roar in response, as if to answer my question. It zipped down, tucking in its wings and dropping down on the ground. The ground shook in effect, causing some of the homes that had already partially collapse become nothing but a pile of used wood and rocks. Flames erupted around us, fueling by the new sources of flammable material.

"You, warrior, think you can slay me?" a deep, booming voice sounded out from the smoke. It sounded inhuman but human at the same time, as if the earth itself cowered at the sound. I looked at the dragon, focusing my gaze. Without letting any hint of surprise, I asked "You can talk?" The dragon puffed it's nostrils, wisps of smoke coming out. "Do you think me a mindless beast? A savage animal? Nas rho kreen… pitiful…" the dragon scoffed, but in a way that didn't seem very human. Smoke was now trailing thickly from his mouth. "Enough talk – let's fight!" I fired multiple rounds into the dragon's eyes, flames erupting from the sockets. It roared in agony, but steadied itself after a couple of seconds, then charged at me. I was by no means a frail SPARTAN, let alone a person, but this dragon most likely weighed more than ten tons. I was merely half a ton, so I wouldn't stand any chance against being crushed by it.

I leaped upwards, timing my jump so I would land on its head. And I had managed to get it almost right, landing on the rear of its head. I stomped roughly on the beast's neck, causing it to roar again. "Enough play!" its voice boomed, and it flew upwards, knocking me off by using one of the devil-like horns on its head.

I glanced around quickly as I fell, seeing no signs of the Stormcloaks nor my fireteam. That meant they had escaped – which meant _I_ could now leave. As I fell down twenty feet, I gazed upwards, seeing the dragon swooping down at me. I quickly formulated a distraction in my head. "Want me!? Come and get me!?" I taunted, hiding a hand behind my back.

It roared in anger, and tucked its wings in further. It got nearer, and nearer, and nearer, until… it was five feet in front of me. I quickly pulled the pin on one of my grenades and chucked it into the creature's open maw, rolling out of the way. It growled in annoyance, obviously not understanding what I had just thrown down its throat. I got up and started sprinting toward the stone stronghold, managing to outpace the dragon that had started lumbering towards me in a reptilian fashion.

I quickly barreled into the door of the stronghold, running in. The dragon, obviously unable to break the thick stone walls, roared in fury as it tried to force its head into the building. I looked around for a split second and saw a tunnel going downwards. It was my only way out, so I looked back at the dragon. "Sayonara!" I shouted, making the two-fingered, salute-reminiscent good-bye. The grenade then exploded causing it to whimper in pain. I chuckled and continued into the tunnel.

The tunnel itself was dark, and no light sources were visible along the dim corridor. I activated night-vision, seeing that it was support by wooden beams that looked next to ancient. They were rotting away, entire pieces of some scaffolding broken away.

Some weapons were littered along the tunnel which were coated in blood, further boosting my confidence that they had left this way. I quickly picked up a fairly decent steel sword and gave it a look over. It would be able to stick to my leg, as my weapons clicked to my legs from magnetic force. It should work for this sword, but I'd have to focus on getting a sheathe later.

I quickly stuck it o my leg, thankful that I had been right, and journeyed onward. After about five minutes of jogging, a light was visible at the end. Motivated by the newfound hope, I sprinted at my top speed towards it. I ran through the entrance, barreling out in the light. I had miscalculated where it would open to, causing me to fall on the ground. There was a fairly steep slope where it opened up, and people would've been able to simply slide down the exit.

What was glaringly obvious and worrying was the fact that my team was no where to be seen. I tried reaching them through the COMMs, but all I got was static. "Damn it!" I cursed out loud, uncaring for the fact if somebody heard me. I tore off my helmet, exposing my pale skin to the air. I felt incredibly uneasy being so exposed in foreign lands, but I _had_ to check my equipment.

I looked at the back, to see that the almost minute receiver had been busted. Maybe it had been broken when I had taken the brunt landing from the dragon, or maybe it had been overloaded by the deafening roars and seemingly never-ending bass voice of the beast. I turned it downwards, so I could see the inside of it. To my horror, I realized that the navigation system had been damaged as well. This wasn't nearly as monumental as the COMMs, though, as I could just navigate using the sun and stars, just as we had been taught on Onyx.

I had to focus on reconnecting with my squadmates.

I sat down on a nearby rock that was flattened enough to ponder what to do next. I didn't have to worry about my team, as a contingency plan was put in place for almost every situation. Blast would be commanding the squad for now, as he had the most experience leading before me. He had led a whole platoon of marines through he Human/Covenant war and brought all of them back alive, albeit injured. That led my thoughts back to the war… how were we fairing? Were we losing, like it had looked when we had been transported to this new world, or were we winning?

A small rustle in the bushes snapped me out of my thoughts, snapping up my battle rifle. A squirrel hopped out, and darted across the sea of pebbles into another bush. "Oh, great…" I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Now that I was in the present, I realized the sensation of the wind flowing across my skin and trailing through my hair. I held my helmet so that I could see my reflection in the faceplate. It had been incredibly long since I had even seen my own face. I had medium-length dark brown hair reaching down to just above my eyes, which were a vibrant green but also spoke of years of warfare. "I barely look… 22…" I murmured to myself, momentarily forgetting my age.

"Hey, you!" this pulled me out of my thoughts, instantly making me put on my helmet and raising my rifle. I looked around, seeing a man in leather clothes round the corner. "You lost?" he asked, his eyes shining with curiosity. No sort of aggressiveness was in them, even though I had a gun raised to his head. He acted as if the gun was non-existent. "I'll repeat myself; are you lost?" he repeated carefully, as if thinking that maybe I would be hostile. "…Yes," I responded after a moment of silence.

"Where are you trying to get?" he asked, slicking back his hair. "Grandroot Inn," I grunted, putting the battle rifle on my back. "Well, that's not far. That also happens to be in the same town where I'm going to! We could travel together!" grinned the man, who seemed thrilled by the idea.

I pondered on the idea for a second. Two of us would stand a better chance against any other type of enemy this land has to offer, and it was my duty, as he didn't look very well-armed – just a dagger and that was it.

"Alright," I conceded, stepping down the slope effortlessly, "But if you try anything, I will personally throw you off a cliff."


	3. Chapter III

**AN: I'll be making up a few minor factions, like bandit gangs and religious groups. Nothing too major.**

 **SPARTAN-B401**

 **CODENAME: BOLT**

 **SNIPER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

"Where the hell did Dorado go?" I asked as we walked down the trail. "Who?" responded one of the Stormcloaks, throwing a glance back at me. "Y'know – the big scary red guy who commanded us?" I tried jogging his memory, waving my hands around in a 'boo' motion. "Oh, that," mumbled the Stormcloak, as if hiding something.

"What?" I pried, tensing in preparation in case I needed to grab my sniper rifle. The Stormcloak shared a glance with another, one that spoke of hesitance. "What?" Circuit echoed me, her voice sharp. "It's possible he didn't make it out alive. Dragons were known for their ability to destroy armies of men, and were only killable by a Dragonborn," the Stormcloak fidgeted with his axe.

"You forget one thing, though," the nuisance of a SPARTAN-IV said bitterly, "He doesn't have to kill it. Just last long enough for us to escape, and then he can escape himself." As much as I hated Lily, she had a fair point. We had made a hasty escape, some of the Stormcloaks losing their weapons in the tunnel in a hurry to leave. If Dorado had managed to see that we left, he would've been able to momentarily distract the… whatever it is, and sprint off into the stronghold.

"It's still possible he died," rumbled Blast, his voice thick with reluctance and sorrow. Lily wheeled on him. "Don't you dare say that!" she snapped, her heavy breathing come either from her almost spontaneous movement or her rage, we could perfectly hear her gruff voice over the COMMs. "Not a good idea, _princess_ ," I remarked sarcastically, shoving her forwards.

She let out a growl of annoyance, but continued. "I'm your leader now," Blast's deep and rough voice was imposing, and put the SPARTAN-IV back into place. "Violence doesn't solve everything," Circuit, attempting to sound wise. "But apparently electricity does," I bumped her on the shoulder plate playfully. "Damn right," she let out a rare chuckle.

The Stormcloaks kept on, some glancing back awkwardly at us.

Trees bordered the path we were on. Not a sound could be heard, even with SPARTAN hearing, that added to the ominous atmosphere. Our footsteps seemed to bounce off the thick all of foliage and echo around us, as if we were in a valley. The sun was a bit over the horizon, but still remained with the grey light of early morning.

I kept glancing at the forest, vigilant for any sort of enemies. "So…" I started, "What are the Stormcloaks?" This seemed to take some of them off-guard. A tall blonde with icy blue eyes slowed his pace and walked next to me. "You're not from around here, are you?" he asked carefully. "No," Circuit responded simply. "Well then… the Stormcloaks are led by Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king of Skyrim. He did horrible things to the Nords, forcing us out of our homes, taking our lands, and breaking bloodlines – all among pandering to the damn Thalmor. I swear, if they were told to kill each other, they'd do so with no complaints," he spat.

I popped my lips beneath my helmet, and I heard Circuit sigh, "This is going to be a long walk."

 **0-0-0**

 **SPARTAN-A206**

 **CODENAME: DORADO**

 **LEADER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

"So, where'd you come from?" asked the man, whose name I learned was Wilcoy. He was in his late twenties, with stubble and jet-black hair. "You wouldn't have heard of it," I responded truthfully, my muscles tense as we walked through the forest. "I'm fairly well-traveled. Try me," he challenged playfully, nudging my upper arm. I was higher than he was, otherwise he would've nudged my shoulder. "Onyx," I responded simply. They wouldn't even know if it, and even if they did and its location, they had no means of reaching it. Plus, we were in a completely different universe from my guess, what with the dragon and warring factions and everything.

"Where is it?" he asked me, sounding confused. Instead of verbally replying, I gestured towards the sky with my head. He whistled in astonishment, "You some kind of Divine?" I glanced at him in curiosity. "Pardon?" I said, returning to my gaze to the forest. "A Divine. You know – gods?" he continued, perplexed. "I'm far from a god," I snorted, crossing my arms, "Would a god get lost?"

"Good point," grinned Wilcoy, pulling a map out of his "travel pack". "We're roughly a mile from the town. Now, watch out, as we're going through an area where werewolves have commonly been sighted," warned Wilcoy, catching me off-guard. "Werewolves?" I echoed, incredulous. "Werewolves," he confirmed, "Haven't you heard of them?"

"Well, yes, I know what they are, but where I'm from… they're myth," I responded, now my hearing tuned into the forest, wary of any of the newly revealed threats. If we were talking the werewolves from home, I could easily take them on, but 'werewolves' could mean next to anything here. For all I knew, they could be massive squads that drill underground. Wilcoy took notice of my alertness. "Don't worry – they're usually docile as long as we stay away from them," he chuckled calmly. I now felt less like a seasoned SPARTAN-III who survived years in the war, but more like the first day of training on Onyx.

"Still… it doesn't hurt to be prepared," I grunted in response, my grip tight on the battle rifle. "I've been wondering; what does that metal thing do in your hand?" he asked, probably trying to take my mind off the werewolves. "It's a firearm – it fires bullets at high speeds," I explained, forgetting that I was talking to someone from the medieval ages. "Er…" he made a sound. "Oh, wait. Just… think of it as a hand-cannon," I sighed. "Ah… must be incredibly useful," he nodded, understanding. "You don't know the half of it," I replied.

The forest we were traveling through gave off a sort of ominous and foreboding energy, as if something horrible would be around the corner. Wilcoy either didn't seem to sense it or showed no signs of knowing its presence, as he continued walking giddily. I was more hesitant, though, as my gut was telling me something bad would happen. And soon.

I glanced upwards, calculating the time of day by the sun's position. It was either six or six thirty, judging by how the sun was still touching the horizon. The repeated _thud_ of my armor and the soft padding of my companion was almost reverberating around path, bouncing around and make it sound almost as if there were four of us.

Something walking in the bushes caught my attention. "I heard something," I whispered to Wilcoy, forcing him to stop. His eyes grew wide with fear, his hand lowering down to his dagger. Due to the echo that seemed to be so prominent here, I wasn't able to determine _exactly_ where it was coming from, but I knew that the sound seemed to be originating from somewhere to my right.

I heard several other pairs of footsteps, but I was dubious, as the echo made everything sound multiplied. "Werewolves?" I asked, my voice lowered to barely a whisper. "No… if they were aggravated, they would just run at us… it sounds as if we're being surrounded…" he mumbled in response, his lower lip starting to quiver.

Behind us, we heard heavy, thumping footsteps. I wheeled on the source, and saw a muscular man earing what seemed like brass-trimmed fur and leather armor. His helmet had a similar appearance to a bear, and claws and strips of fur adorned his bare arms. His boots seemed to have been made out of bear paws, but the claws that were usually bone were made of some sort of brass/copper allow. The breastplate adorning his chest was held in place by several straps of fur, matching the bands on his arms, and had a sort of gem in the middle, but was made of solid brass.

"Who are you and what do you want?" I shouted, keeping my battle rifle level. "We do not follow _your_ orders," the man sneered, his voice deep and monotone. "Still – what is your name?" I asked calmly. "You may call me Light Heart. And _you_ will call us the Brass Bears," he answered, his voice rough. "And who is 'us'?" I challenged, my grip tightening on the battle rifle. In response, he made a gesture with both his hands, and several dozens of men came out of the forest.

Some had bear skulls adorning their heads, while others had bear heads covering their faces, with holes punched in for the eyes. Others wore simple pelt hats. Most had the same basic armor concept as their leader, with some deviations. They all had weapons either made of bones or wood with stone trims.

"Now, what do you _want_ with us?" I growled, starting to get testy. "First of all, your armor," smirked Light Heart, reaching out his hand in a beckoning manner. "You seriously think that _I_ will give _you_ my _armor_?" the prospect nearly made me laugh. "Yes – you are outnumbered fifteen to one, so I trust you will follow your instincts and surrender," sneered Light Heart.

"You sure you're mentally stable?" I taunted. "I'm sure of it. Your armor. Now," commanded Light Heart. "I'd rather die," I snorted, before opening fire on Light Heart. His armor deflected some of the bullets, but most easily penetrated the soft metals and pelts, easily punching holes through his skin. Light Heart's body jerked in synch to where the bullets hit him, spurts of blood coming out of his body. He fell to his knees, the crimson liquid pooling around him on the ground. He finally groaned helplessly, then pitched forward onto the ground, completely still.

"Anybody else want to fight me!?" I exclaimed, raising my hands challengingly. I had learned over the years that if you act larger than you actually are when challenging enemies, they'll sometimes be so intimidated that they'll simply leave. This clearly worked, as I was sure that if anyone even dared attack their leader, they would go on the offensive, but seeing that I had a weapon that could easily kill them, and at range in addition, attacking me would do more harm than good for them.

"Give me all of your valuables," I told Wilcoy, putting my hand forward and palm upwards. "What!?" he exclaimed. "This for your own good – give me all of them and run, I'll keep them safe. I promise. I'll catch up with you up ahead. I can sprint quicker than most horses," I grunted, keeping an eye on all the men and counting them. Understanding shined in Wilcoy's eyes, whether from knowing that he stood no chance against me if I was a thief, or that he understood what my plan was. He reached into his travel pack and pulled out a pouch of coins and put them on my hand. "That's all I have. Everything else is just my dagger, map, and some water," he shrugged, "I like to travel light."

"Good. Now run – I'll catch up with you," I repeated. He nodded and sprinted off, adrenaline making him run faster than I've seen a regular person run for a long time. Thankfully, none of the men seemed interested in him – they were merely interested in me.

I rolled my shoulder, "Come on! You want to fight! Well come and get it!"


	4. Chapter IV

**AN: My SPARTAN will have similar fighting styles to those of the Freelancers of Red vs Blue.**

 **SPARTAN-A206**

 **CODENAME: DORADO**

 **LEADER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

 **(WARNING: GORE)**

It was going to be a bloodbath.

All the 'Brass Bears' ran at me at once, their weapons raised, and their jaws split, roaring a war cry. There were thirty or so about them, so this was not going to be a quick fight. I snapped my BR onto my back and charged into one of the heavier warriors, knocking him onto the ground. I snapped out my SOCOM and fired multiple shots into his throat. One down, thirty-three to go.

I launched myself backwards as an axe narrowly missed my helmet, which would have definitely damaged my shields a significant bit, and lord knows I don't need that. I made use of the moves I had utilized at the "beheading", and kicked the axe forward with a fraction of my strength. The man who was holding it cried out in agony, as I had most likely dislocated his shoulder.

I ducked downwards and jumped up, flipping over the man and fired three rounds into the Bear's head using the SOCOM. Blood gushed from the shots as the body fell lifelessly onto another one of the enemy troops. I landed and rolled forward, my instincts directing me. I had managed to avoid a Warhammer. I swiftly turned around, grabbing the weapon by the head and stopping the user mid-swing. One hand lifting the massive armament, the other firing at another person with the magnum, I slammed the Warhammer's handler into the ground, then stomped his head into a pulp.

During the SPARTAN-III training, we had been taught how to use bo-staffs. This was essentially the same principle, except for this I would have to counteract the weight of the head. I tore it out of the body's lifeless hands and swung at three of my attackers, hitting them with such force that I knocked their skulls clean off their shoulders. Bones of their now non-existent necks flew everywhere.

I snapped my sword out, decapitating at least one. I twirled it on my right, in case they got any ideas of flanking me from there. Of course, this idea was short-lived, as someone managed to hit it out of my hands and flint it into another person's head, killing another.

In response, I crouched, and made a leg swing, knocking four soldiers off their feet, supporting myself on one of my arms. I quickly spun around and jumped up, my momentum carrying me several feet upwards. I change my position, so I would land directly on top of two of their heads, and be able to carry the Warhammer onto another's. I did so, blood splattering my shins and boots. I aimed the SOCOM and pressed the trigger, but was met with a clicking sound. "Damn it," I grunted. I didn't have the time nor space to reload without some serious implications.

With that in mind, I snap my pistol to my hip and sprint out of the mass of attackers, spinning around with the Warhammer acting as a counterbalance. At the exact moment, I let go, causing it to zoom right through three of my pursuers. The second after that, I pulled out my BR, firing several rounds into the group, downing around seven men. At this point there were only around ten, so a grenade should do it. I reach behind my back and grab a frag. I pull the pin and throw it into the mass of roadside bandits, and slid in behind a tree trunk for cover.

I cover my head as well, since that is a major weak spot for a SPARTAN. Sadly, my cover had been ill-advised and when the grenade blew up, it blasted through the log, and reached me. It threw me back into a tree, causing it to crack into the middle and shower me with leaves. Apart from a few bruises and a headache, I was fine.

I opened my eyes, only to see a Battle-axe spinning at me, and from the trajectory, the blade would carve right into my head. On instinct, I rolled out of the way a split second before the axe punctured the trunk where my head had been a heartbeat ago. It had an odd design, and didn't seem to be what the Brass Bears would have normally used from my limited experience.

It was composed of neatly forged iron; the handle was wrapped in straps of leather and had some claws at the edge.

I placed a hand on the handle, and effortlessly pulled it out of the tree trunk. Because of the loss of my sword, this'll be useful.

 **SPARTAN-B401**

 **CODENAME: BOLT**

 **SNIPER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

"There's something in the trees…" I heard Circuit mutter, keeping her pistol in hand. She was glancing around warily, keeping her gaze fixed on the surrounding forest. "How do you know?" I asked, grabbing my sniper rifle off my back. "I just feel it…" Circuit responded, now sounding even more paranoid. "Ey – you're at tin-hat levels of creepiness so just take a mo-" I would've said 'moment to calm down' but I was suddenly interrupted by a wolf-like howl splitting through the air,

"They've got our scent," one of the Stormcloaks said, pulling out his Warhammer. "Everyone – be on high alert and keep weapons drawn at all times!" Blast started barking orders, fillings his role as team leader. "They sound like they're a couple hundred yards away," I murmured to myself, keeping my sniper rifle level.

"Does anyone here know the best way to kill a werewolf?" asked Lily. "It's best to aim for the face. Their mouth or eyes, preferably," a heavily scarred Stormcloak rasped, keeping his sword and shield raised. An eerie howling came again, but this one seemed abnormal and unique from the other. I glanced around, seeing if anyone else had noticed the difference. Apparently, Lily had. "Werewolves are people turned into wolves in this place, right?" she asked over the private COMMs. "Yes," I grunted begrudgingly.

"Then wouldn't their howls all be different, just as every human's voice is different? That could explain the different pitched howling, wouldn't it?" she told me her theory. "Well… that's possible… but not probable, as I imagine that their vocal chords are changed along with everything else of their anatomy," I responded, my sentence punctuated by another howl, this time incredibly low. "They sound as if they're within a hundred yards of us," rumbled Blast, keeping his minigun level and swiveling towards the trees. The Stormcloaks all seemed on edge, "Any of you ever seen a werewolf before?"

One of the younger Stormcloaks with a missing eye nodded, "I was patrolling outside the Stormcloak camp when I ran into one. Their huge mountains of muscle, taller than you! They're hunch backed and saliva falls from their jaws like water falls from a waterfall. They're the reason I lost my eye." I shuddered, picturing the beast. Let me tell you, it wasn't very pleasant.

Suddenly, a tree crashed down to our right. "Everyone be ready to defend themselves!" rumbled Blast, putting his finger on the trigger of the gatling gun. Suddenly, a massive, hulkinh behemoth wolf creature lumbered (get it?) out of the woods, straight at us.

We were under attack.


	5. Chapter V

**AN: I'm moving it to when he reaches the village, because for fuck's sake, this shit has gone on long enough. And he'll reach the village before the rest of the fireteam; it'll become clear in due time as to** _ **why**_ **. Or I could just be making a fast travel joke. Who knows? (No, it seriously has some relevance in the plot.)**

 **Also, whoever reviewed 'need more', you made my freaking day. xD**

 **On another note, I AM SO, SO, SO SORRY for not updating in the past few months; I was busy with school and my other stories. Reviewing helps motivate me to write the chapters faster, though! :D**

 **SPARTAN-A206**

 **CODENAME: DORADO**

 **LEADER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

I finally reached the village. The houses were all made of wood with roofs made of some sort of leaf or organic material that I couldn't tell. They were all built on platforms due to the marshy ground, and some were even two stories high with scaffolding-like support beams holding up stretches of lumber catwalks for the residents to walk on. It honestly looked like the textbook definition of a medieval/Scandinavian village.

Oddly, I had never found the traveler that had given me his valuables. Maybe he ran off beyond the village because of fear? Maybe a separate band of the Brass Bears had chased him and then killed him, taking him off the road. I immediately crossed the former out, since he had nothing of value that the group would seem to want. All his gold was on me, and the only things I could think of that he had on was the dagger he had sheathe, his backpack, and clothes. Nothing especially precious.

I shook my head, focusing my thoughts. I would set aside the resources the traveler had for if I found him again, but now I had to focus on the task at hand; finding some sort of explanation for the place I'm in.

As I walked into the stone arch forming the gates of the town (also catching the stares of the guards on patrol), I head a woman, most likely elderly from her voice, shouting "A dragon! I saw a dragon!"

At least I hadn't been having some hallucination, and knew that the dragon I had been fighting was real. I spotted the woman relatively quickly. She was standing on the deck of a house pressed up against the stone wall protecting the village. I had moved silently, so she didn't notice me yet. A man, much younger than her, walked out. "Mother, any more of this, and any of the village that still doesn't believe your insane, will swiftly change their minds," the man tried hushing her.

"I know what I saw! A dragon flew over the mountains!" she retorted, staring daggers at her now named son. "Mother, I to-" the man's sentence was cut short as his jaw dropped, and I knew that he had caught sight of me. I stepped out into the open and the view of both. The man's eyes were flooded with emotion; fear, curiosity, fear again, and then confusion. Funnily enough, fear prevailed, and the man grabbed his mother by the shoulders stiffly, guiding her back into the home. I snorted behind my faceplate, amused by the reaction of the resident.

"No funny business," a guard came up to me and told me. It sounded as if the words were forced, though, as if the guard was so scared that a simple flick of my finger would send him running for the hills. I simply stared down at the armored man, making him wilt under my gaze. "Affirmative," I responded as casually as a SPARTAN-III could get. The guard merely nodded, likely not trusting his mouth to form words, and shuffled off, holding his battle-axe in a white-knuckled grip. I chuckled slightly, carrying on.

The residents of the towns all seemed to react in one of three ways: fear, and sometimes guiding their loved ones away, curiosity as even I would admit that my armor would seem practically alien to the medieval-type people, and just flat out surprise. More than once, they just froze, and someone had to slap them in the back for them to continue breathing. It must look strange to them, with all the lights, smooth metals, and odd-looking weapons that I carried.

A shady-looking young woman walked up to me, a smirk plastered onto her face. "Where'd you get something like that, and how much does it cost?" she asked, placing a hand on her hips. I sensed that this was not someone I'd want to rub elbows with, so I tried the brutal honesty approach. "More than you can afford," I grunted in response. These things cost as much as a small starship, billions of credits; and there was no way she owned that type of money, let alone currency.

She frowned. "I said I wanted it, so how much does it cost?" she said, her voice loosing its seductive edge it had before and was replaced by frustration. "I already told you; much more than you can afford, and you won't find anything close to it… in this area," I stumbled over my words for a second, not knowing what to say. Was I on a rogue planet, an alternate dimension, or was this all some kind of hallucination or dream I was having due to an injury I can't remember? She noticed this halt in the words, grinning as if I had explicitly told her the measurements and materials needed for it. "Ah, so nowhere near here. I'm pretty well travelled, so try me," she smirked loftily. I decided to be even more brutally honest.

"Nowhere in this planet," I replied, my voice filled with a tone of finality. Anger flared through her eyes, as she unsheathed a green-ish sword and pointed it at me. "I want that armor, and I _will_ have it. So, you will either tell me where to get a set, or you will hand over your armor," she muttered, her voice dark and filled with scorn. "Listen, kid. I don't think you know who you're messing with," I grunted, unimpressed. As a SPARTAN, I never underestimated an enemy, but she was threatening a SPARTAN-III fully armed and armored. So she was practically asking for a few broking bones.

She growled in rage as she thrusted the sword at me. She didn't catch me off guard, though, as in the blink of an eye, I had grabbed her arm and wrenched the sword out of her grip, bringing it to her neck, then sliding in behind her. In a matter of seconds, we had gone from being a few feet apart to me being directly behind her with full control of whether she would live or die. "Now do you know who you're messing with?" I asked, my voice cold and monotone. She stared back at me, anger and fear fighting in her eyes. All she could see, though, was her own reflection in the glass of my faceplate.

"Alright, alright! I didn't even want the damn armor!" she grunted, holding her hands up. "Good," I said curtly, shoving her onto the dirt path with little caution of her safety. "At least give me my damn sword," she growled, staring up at me. Now that she was out of the blade's reach of her throat, she had become rude again. I nodded, throwing her sword at her. For a split second, her face paled as she thought the sword would puncture her cranium, but when it was going to supposedly hit her head it merely grazed the side of her face, barely touching a hair. "Pitiful," I grunted, noting that a few brave souls had gathered around.

"You do not want to fight me," I told all of them, putting emphasis on 'not' and 'me'. "Uhm, y-yes s-sir!" one of them stuttered, satisfying me. "Now, have you seen a group of people wearing the same type of armor as me walk through here?" I asked, flexing my hands if somebody else decided to threaten me. "N-no," I heard someone reply. That's odd… they departed before me, so they should gave gotten here first. Maybe they took a different path? Or maybe got lost… it was confusing.

I glanced up to see the sky darkening, vibrant shades of red and orange were streaked across the sky. The view, I had to admit, was spectacular, as the village itself was situated on a sort of cliff that rose above the trees, so I had a clear view of the spectacle. I shook my head, knocking me out of my stupor. I looked around, quickly spotting a traditional-looking building with the word 'Grandroot Inn'. "There it is," I said, walking towards it. People were starting to disperse, even the stupid lady that had tried to threaten me.

The second I entered, I noticed that everyone in here hadn't heard what happened on the street, so it was like entering town all over again. People froze, others shied away from me, and others merely continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary, which I found amusing. There was a fire in the middle, roasting what looked like chicken above it. I stepped over to what looked like the place where I could ask to get a room. The lady working the little desk just stared up at me, her face pale. I towered over her with a good two feet up my sleeve. "I would like a room," I said once she found her voice again.

"U-Uhm, sure! Room three; you'll f-find it by going up the s-stairs and on the right of the h-hallway…" she stammered. I nodded, heading up. I would search for my fireteam tomorrow. I am no use to them if I'm not at the top of my game.

 **SPARTAN-B401**

 **CODENAME: BOLT**

 **SNIPER OF FIRETEAM WHISP**

There were up to six wolf-man-things circling around us, all of them with saliva dripping from their jaws and their wicked teeth bared. "What are these things?" I heard Circuit ask, her voice nothing but a whisper. "They look like… werewolves," Blast breathed over the COMMs. "Damn it; the werewolves found us!" one of the Stormcloaks shouted, confirming our thoughts. Abruptly, the largest one walked in front of us, its eyes a dimly glowing red. They reflected my faceplate in them; expressionless, stoic. It then snarled at us.

All of them charged.

In the first second, two of the Stormcloaks were trampled, brutally clawed at and their corpses smushed. The sickening, reverberating crunches and snapping of bone echoed through the trees. I instinctively fired my sniper rifle, dropping one. It tumbled to the ground, blood gushing from the newly-made hole in its head. One charged at a Stormcloak and managed to slash at the poor man successfully, blood, organic matter, and bone fragments showering the others. It let out an animalistic snarl as it tried taking a bite at me.

Thankfully, being a sniper also meant you had to be good at CQC, since our weaponry was focused on range. I swiftly snapped my sniper rifle onto my back, unsheathing the combat blade as one lumbered towards me. It howled, as if to intimidate me, and tried to body-slam me. I was quicker, though, as I grabbed its arm and used the momentum to swing out of its path, spinning the combat knife in my hand, then thrusting the metal blade deep into the creature's back. Blood instantly erupted from the puncture, staining my armor-plated gauntlet. It yowled in pain, then whipping its head at me, snapping its jaws, as if try to catch my head in its maw.

My hand snapped to the magnum pistol on my waist as I heard another agony-filled and death-induced shriek, my eyes glancing for half a second at a Stormcloak body convulsing on the dirt, their weapon on their chest. I did this for a fraction of a millisecond, my attention returning to the overgrown dog. It snarled at me, foolishly turning its front to me. I took this opportunity to kill it. "Say 'ahhh'!" I quipped, pulling the magnum up. It did something akin to a loud bark at me, filled with hatred. I then fired three rounds into its open mouth.

It dropped into the dirt, blood welling up in its mouth and dripping down into its fur, leaving rivers of red in the otherwise grey fur.

I couldn't pay attention to the now lifeless bag of fur for long, as I heard growling to my left. Instinctively, I rolled to the right, hearing slashing sounds exactly where I had been. I ended in a crouch, my pistol at the ready in my hand. I glanced at my left, seeing the bigger werewolf that seemed to have led the pack. I jolted up, turning to face the beast. It growled at my, its mouth opening wide.

Abruptly, a grenade flew in. Its head burst in bone, blood, and all manners of gore, a chunk of brain matter flying by my hand. It threw me back, landing on the stone-strewn path on my side, causing me to grunt in response. "Need a hand?" a voice asked above me. I recognized that voice! "Dorado – good to know you don't like missing the party," I joked, seeing the red-clad SPARTAN-III above me stick a hand out to help me up.

I took it, grinning behind my faceplate. He pulled me up to my feet, "What are these things?"

He then aimed his BR at one and stared firing, the bullets hitting its eyes and travelling through its head. "They're pissed off and deadly; that's all you got to know," I replied, grabbing my sniper rifle from my back, quickly lining up a shot and shooting one. It dropped dead, like the others before. "Only one left!" shouted Lily, reloading. She was speaking the truth, since there was now only one werewolf left standing. "I got this," Blast said calmly, ignoring that the SPARTAN-IV had run towards him. He held his gatling gun in his hands, the barrels spinning. A torrent of bullets flew from them, tearing into the beast like a knife through butter. Blood spurted everywhere as the rounds hit everywhere, making it seem more like an impromptu shower than anything else. It started stumbling drunkenly, and then stumbling over one of the bodies that were littered over the path, dropping backwards and dying midfall.

We had won.


End file.
